


Comfort Zone

by lamardeuse



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, two English detectives find themselves in a Canadian shack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort Zone

**Author's Note:**

> I got into due South fandom just a little too late to participate in the first Canadian Shack challenge, so there was no way I was going to miss it this time around! Thanks to Ces for celebrating this wonderful piece of fannish history with a new round of creativity and crack.

 

“I must have been bloody daft. I must have been _barking._ ” 

 

The door banged open, and Robbie started as James came in bearing an armful of wood. “Found it out back,” he huffed, his cheeks pink with the cold. “I'll have a fire going in a trice.”

 

“Are you sure the chimney's safe?” Robbie asked, peering dubiously at the heavy stone flue. To say the place was rustic was putting it mildly, though he supposed it was serviceable enough if you didn't mind an outdoor loo. Which Robbie normally did, especially when there was the prospect of bears and wolves leaping out from behind a tree at you.

 

“The camp's maintained by the RCMP, so I imagine it's functional.” Crouching down, James arranged the wood, then reached for the newspaper that was piled near the fireplace along with some other tinder. “As soon as I get this going, I'll fetch some water from the stream for tea. Then I'll give that generator a go.”

 

“Is that such a good idea?” Robbie asked. “The water, I mean. Not exactly sanitary.”

 

“Nothing else for it, I'm afraid. The water's been shut off for the winter.” James reached into his pocket for his lighter and touched the flame to the edges of the paper. Within a minute, the flames were starting to lick over the wood. “If we boil it, I'm sure it'll be fine.”

 

“I'd better come with you,” Robbie said. He felt guilty for his earlier outburst, even though James probably hadn't heard him. At James' raised eyebrows, he waved a hand. “You know. There might be – bears.”

 

James' lips curved, and Robbie felt the exasperation hit him even before the sod opened his mouth. “What would I do without you to protect me, sir?”

 

“Oh, shut your gob,” Robbie growled, wrapping his scarf more tightly around himself as Hathaway searched in the tiny kitchen for a suitable water container. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An hour later, Robbie was sitting in front of a roaring fire, his boots off and his sock-clad toes absorbing the warmth as he sipped a mug of tea. He had to admit there was another thing keeping him warm – the memory of James wrestling the small petrol generator back to life so that they could have a bit of electricity for the time it took for the kettle to boil. James had caught him staring and misconstrued it as surprise, shrugging and saying, “we kept one in the barn for emergencies.” Robbie's mouth had been a little dry, so he hadn't mustered a response.

 

James finished washing up at the sink – he'd been all over grease, and more than a bit sweaty – and came over to flop down beside him with his own mug.

 

“I've never been happier that Canadians still keep some English traditions,” Robbie murmured, a peace offering of sorts.

 

“A comfort in times of trial,” James agreed. They sat in silence for a while, and then James said, “I'm sorry.”

 

“Eh, it wasn't your fault the car broke down,” Robbie sighed.

 

“I meant the whole idea. Dragging you off on this exchange.”

 

“It's only for three months. And we'd neither of us ever been to Canada.”

 

“Perhaps a holiday might have been a better idea.” James' elbow bumped his gently. “With room service.”

 

“No matter. And somewhere in Oxford there's a pair of Mounties raising a couple of pints at the White Horse to our very good health.”

 

“One Mountie and one detective from Chicago, I believe.” When Robbie looked at him, James shrugged. “I didn't quite understand it either.”

 

“Any road,” Robbie said, taking James' free hand in his own, “I'm glad you convinced me to do this. It's an adventure, and I would never have done it meself.”

 

James squeezed his hand, then leaned in for a kiss, then another. Robbie returned it, letting go of James' hand to cup his face. Pulling back, James took Robbie's mug from him and set it down, then leaned back on the sofa, tugging Robbie with him by the front of his wooly jumper.

 

“Oi, what will the Mounties think?” Robbie murmured.

 

“That I'm about to get my man,” James said, not even trying to hide his smirk. Robbie rolled his eyes, but went along. After all, he didn't want his jumper pulled out of shape.

 


End file.
